The Solitary Soldier
by O.I. Wonder
Summary: A young marine named Tyler Storm learns just how quickly life can change when he meets a strange old man with very strange powers.


"The Solitary Soldier"

Tyler Storm was your ordinary army soldier, or so he thought. He never figured himself any better than the others in any way possible. His looks were even average. He was just like most of the others there at the camp. A new recruit at the age of 18. Being average had never bothered Tyler at all, the way he saw it, it was much better to be normal than different. That was the one thing he thought himself being good at, being normal.

At the moment Tyler Storm was sleeping in his small cot, in Compound B. His fitful slumber was interrupted by the six a.m. roll call, trumpets blaring. Tyler was used to it by now and so didn't jump franticly out of his cot. He got up, dressed, and put on his boots as usual. He had just started to think about the day ahead, when someone broke into his thoughts. "Hey T-Storm!" it was his friend Luke Parry. "Did you hear about the struggle that happened last night?"

The question shocked him, "No, I didn't. Why, what happened?" Luke seemed more than ready to answer.

"Some say that it was just a subordinate, but others say that it was an enemy spy. Nothing is for certain," he replied. It was obvious which he thought it was, the latter was much more appealing, though not as believable. Then again, if it was an enemy spy their commanding officer probably wouldn't tell them that anything happened. Well, he thought to himself, I guess we'll just have to see.

All the young soldiers were lined up as they were supposed to be when their commanding officer, Captain Fynit, walked in. He was very tall, had piercing brown eyes, and heavily built. He went through the list of everybody's duties for the day, as usual. When he finished with that he left them to their work. It was just as he thought; nothing was said whatsoever about a struggle during the night. That either meant that the enemy spy theory was true or that nothing at all happened. It wasn't likely that _nothing _happened, because Luke was the soldiers' informant. He knew everything that went on that was kept secret. It was only a matter of time before they had another piece of news.

And Tyler Storm was right.

It was just after 5:30 when Tyler was getting to his last job of the day. Cleaning the holding cells. He went through the first four quite quickly, seeing as there was nobody to occupy them. The fifth and final had two 

high-ranking marines guarding the entrance. They saw him coming and stopped him immediately. "What do you want?" the first, a portly man, taunted. Tyler would have responded in kind if not for the fact that he was a subordinate. Instead he played dumb like he didn't know a thing about why they were there.

"Oh, me? I'm cleaning the holding cells as I was instructed to do. This is the only one left then I'm done. I would really appreciate it if you would allow me to clean this final one," he said in a dull voice that betrayed his curiosity. It seemed to work, for the marines looked at each other as though considering his request.

"Come on, he's harmless," said the other who hadn't spoken before. He was rake thin, just the opposite as the first man.

"I still don't know. The general said no one should interfere with the prisoner," the other argued.

The second thought for a moment, "Well, let's let him in and if he tries anything, we'll shoot him." The other nodded in agreement. They turned back to Tyler who was looking the other direction, making it seem as though he weren't paying attention. "We have decided," started the second man again, "that you may go in and clean the cell, but don't disturb the prisoner. If you do you're getting a bullet between the eyes. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir," Tyler answered. The soldiers turned to the door and started unlocking it. There seemed to be more than enough locks on the door for a mere enemy spy. This guy must be really dangerous, Tyler thought, more than just a spy. When the door started to open he tensed, ready for whatever was within. The hinges creaked, it usually wouldn't have bothered him, but in his state he nearly grabbed his pistol. When the door was open completely and the marines gave their permission, he went inside expecting to meet a large and powerful man. Instead, he was surprised to meet a thin man who looked extremely old. The door closed behind Tyler quickly.

He was writing strange shapes and symbols on the dark grey wall; that was until the door opened and Tyler walked in. The instant he walked in the old man gripped his piece of chalk so hard it crumbled into pieces. Slowly the man turned to look at Tyler, a look of great relief crossed his face. The man sat on the floor in a heap, releasing a long sigh. Tyler barely heard him mutter to himself, "It is only one of the soldier whelps. But then why did I feel such power when he walked into the room. He can't possibly be the source…"

"The source," repeated Tyler to the man, "the source of what?" Tyler didn't let his anger leak out, he had learned the hard way that it did nothing 

for him. Yet, he could hardly keep himself from yelling at this prisoner for calling him a whelp. The old man seemed to consider Tyler before answering.

"Nothing that you should be concerned with, something that you wouldn't possibly understand," he answered. He stuck out his hand for Tyler to shake, and surprisingly, Tyler shook it. "My name is Alfred Burninston," the old man said, introducing himself. Alfred's grip was strangely strong and it made his skin feel static. Suddenly, it felt like a surge of power pumped into him from the old man's hand. Alarmed, Tyler backed away from him and pulled out his pistol again. And yet, he yearned for more of the power that had shot into him. He slowly put away the weapon and stepped toward the old man, offering up his hand as if for another greeting.

"My name is Tyler Storm," he said, still offering his hand. Sensing no ill intent, Alfred took up his hand again. The surge of power returned, this time not so much a surge as a steady flow. "It usually isn't like me to say this to a prisoner, but it's nice to meet you," Tyler continued, power still flowing through their clasped hands.

Alfred responded, "Well, it usually isn't like me to say this to those who keep me under guard, but it's nice to meet you too."

"Oh, I'm not one of the guards I'm just…" he stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the symbols on the walls were faintly glowing. All except the unfinished section that was still the dull white of chalk. His surprise only lasted until he looked down at their hands, then he was completely mesmerized by the light that shone through the cracks between their fingers and palms. Tyler completely forgot what he was going to say and instead answered with a puzzled look.

It was a few moments before the old man spoke again, "It seems I was wrong about you all along. There's more to you than what meets the eye."

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" asked Tyler. "Just what the hell is going on here? Who…no, what are you?" He couldn't think of any believable answer to what was happening.

As if he had not heard Tyler's question he asked, "How old are you, Tyler?"

"What the hell kind of answer is that? You don't answer a question with a question, especially not one that has nothing to do with the first question." Tyler was infuriated now. Whatever was happening at the moment was nowhere close to normal. And he wasn't exactly a believer of the paranormal, actually just the opposite. If it couldn't be proven it wasn't 

real, that went double for magic. It logically _couldn't_ exist, plain and simple. And yet, the evidence was all around him, he could see the lights and feel the strange surge of power traveling between them. Not only that, but the air even smelled and tasted different, it was sweeter, refreshing…magical. The room was oddly silent; the only noises their slow intakes of breath.

It was funny how the peace and serenity he was looking for could be found in a prison cell. With someone he had earlier assumed to be an enemy spy. Suddenly Tyler realized that the old man was still awaiting an answer. "Well Al, it's ok if I call you Al right?" Tyler started. A nod from Al allowed him to continue, "Well, I'm eighteen years old as of last month." A knowing smile spread over the old man's face. It was obvious that he knew something that Tyler didn't.

Just as Tyler was going to burst out with a question that needed answered, Al said, "Well, that explains it. I'm sure that you are wondering just what I'm talking about. You see, the truth is, I'm not the enemy. I'm not a spy or a bandit or anyone who would harm you. I was imprisoned because I am a Mage, a magic wielder. Your _all-mighty_ general is also one, except he is fighting for the wrong side. _He_ is the double agent; I came along and found out. But sadly, before I could divulge the truth, I was captured by him. So, as you can see I am in a bad way."

Tyler was utterly dumbfounded by what he had just heard. He was also incredulous, "Well then, if you are a _Mage _How come you haven't broken out with your magic?" Tyler was thinking back to all the fairytales he had ever heard about magicians. Then he realized that most of the time they used some kind of object to control their magic. Yet, what did he know about magic, for all he knew this old man was a liar.

"Well, I can't exactly control the world's magic without my staff. That is why I am writing these symbols on the walls. It is the only other way that I can use magic, but when you walked in I felt your power and panicked. As you can see, that resulted in my now useless piece of chalk. You wouldn't happen to have any would you?"

"Actually," Tyler started, "I would love to help, but I don't really think that I should. Besides I don't think that I have a single piece on me." This, of course, was a lie. He had a full stick left. He just didn't trust Al. Then again, why shouldn't he? After all, he's just an old man; an old man who can use magic, he corrected himself. Yet, if he really can use magic maybe he could take me with him, Tyler thought to himself.

His thoughts couldn't continue any further, as Al replied, "If you don't have any chalk and you want to help you could always sneak into the general's rooms and steal back my staff." That idea set Tyler's insides sour 

with mortification, there was no way he could succeed in doing that. It seemed he had to trust him and give him the chalk.

Tyler reached into his left breast pocket and drew out his piece of chalk. He started to hand it over and then hesitated as if changing his mind. Finally, he made up his mind and gave Al the chalk. Instantly Al went back to work on his so-called magic symbols.

Five minutes later, Al was nearing the completion of his work, only one intricate symbol left. Suddenly, the worst sound imaginable drowned out the light _scratch_ sound of the chalk on the wall. _Knock, knock, knock!_ The sound echoed abruptly through the cell. They froze fantastically fast, desolation stealing over their minds. They just needed a little more time. It seemed like they were going to get it too. One of the marines on duty guarding the cell was getting thoroughly shouted at.

It was probably about letting me in, Tyler thought. It didn't really matter because Al had already continued drawing. A moment later and it was complete. Tyler's curiosity bloomed into life, and so he asked, "Exactly what is this supposed to do?" The yelling was still going on outside the door.

"Well, the spell on the walls is an enlarged Fire Bomb spell. That's what's gunna get us out of here. The one on the floor behind me is a Shield spell. That will protect us from the explosions on the walls." The response startled Tyler. This was it, the moment of truth. It determined whether Al was on his side, or the other. Then, Al spoke again, "I don't know if you would like to, but do you want to come with me. You could be my apprentice."

"Wait…you mean…I have magic?" his incredulity was far overshadowed by the opportunity to escape the army and have a life that didn't likely end with a bullet to the chest. He answered an emphatic 'yes' without a second thought.

The shouting match outside the door came to a sudden halt. Then, the general's voice boomed through the silence, it was like a guillotine coming down onto the last of his hopes. Severing every thought of success on his new mission with his new leader. Al beckoned him over to the spell at the beck end of the cell. Even when he was standing next to the old man he couldn't help but fear the general. Especially now that he knew the general could command magic. "When do you plan on settin' these things off," Tyler said, meaning the spells.

Al seemed to consider each word before saying them, "I'm waiting for the right moment." Tyler instantly took the meaning. Al was going to wait until the general was close enough to be taken in by the explosions. It was 

a smart maneuver. They waited a few more seconds. By that time the general's voice could be heard clearly on the other side of the door. He wanted to know why the marines were arguing. After a moment the marines guarding the door explained how there was a soldier cleaning the holding cells and gained admittance to this one to clean it also. The general told them to open the door…then to get out of the way.

Tyler turned to Al quizzically, "Does he plan to open the door himself?" Al didn't get a chance to answer, on account of the deep groaning protest of the giant metal door. It seemed to cry out in displeasure at being torn from its resting place. The hinges and locks clinging to each other, trying to stay together and intact. Looking back to Al, Tyler saw that his face was set in deep concentration.

Then, the symbols on the walls and floor beneath them started to glow fiery white. One edge of the door was starting to come apart, making a gap. The air that came through the door seemed tainted. It almost tasted different, like stale rotting air, if there was such a thing. Al noticed it too for he said, "Ah, that is the hideous effect of evil magic. It fouls the air and befuddles the mind. I feel bad for those marines; they must be paralyzed from it." Tyler's dawning horror must have shown on his face, because Al then said, "Don't worry, it won't affect us because _we_ are mages." Just hearing Al say that he was a mage was enough to give him a good amount of courage. By now the symbols were too bright to look at, and the door opening more and more each second. Without warning a strange bubble surrounded them, and at the same time the gap widened phenomenally. A moment longer and the door would have been torn away entirely. Al seemed to realize this and so set of his Fire Bomb Spells; which went off simultaneously, turning the cement and brick walls into chunks of rock and fine dust.

They waited perhaps thirty seconds for the dust to settle. The hallway in front and the cell next to theirs were crumbling. The two marines who were standing near the door were bleeding, but alive. They had been told to move out of the way. The general was unconscious about fifteen feet away. He was still clutching his cane that had a handle that resembled a cruel looking hammer; it was unharmed. _That_ _must be his staff!_ Tyler thought to himself. He cautiously walked over to the unconscious general to get a closer look at the staff. It was made of extremely dark wood, almost black. There were five runes carved into the wood and filled in with dark red paint; or was it blood. Tyler had a feeling he didn't want to know.

Not ten feet away Al was picking up a shaft of wood that, when he stood with it, was exactly his height. It was _his_ staff, it also had runes 

carved into it, but Al's had nearly double the amount and they were inlaid with silvery paint. The second Al touched the staff, the runes became luminescent. Even more astonishingly, Al looked younger by years.

Al answered Tyler's unvoiced question, "The presence of magic influences the user, the lack of it starts to give way to your true age." It seemed that magic never ceased to amaze him. The different things it could do and cause were limitless. And to think that he would one day be able to use and control magic. "Let us go my apprentice, we have much work to do," Al said, beckoning him over.

Tyler gave the general one last fleeting glance, and then followed his master out of the decimated wall out into the night. Tyler mentally tagged this day; today is Tuesday, July 23, 2035. Today I became a mage's apprentice.

_Five minutes have passed since Al and his apprentice had made their leave. The general's grip tightened on his staff and his eyes fluttered open. His prisoner had escaped, and one of his soldiers that he considered to be a potential apprentice. His plans for dominating the army unnoticed were foiled. He would have to move into the open and take control. It was only slightly risky; there was no-one strong enough to defy him. Except for that pesky Al and his new _apprentice_, who hopefully would leave him well alone until he could raise up a few good followers of his own._

_Only time will tell…_

_**To Be Continued…**_


End file.
